


11/20/XX

by thebirdroads



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/M, Persona 5 Spoilers, implied Makoto/Akira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 14:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12819225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebirdroads/pseuds/thebirdroads
Summary: The Thieves react to some news.





	11/20/XX

“Ann-chan! Can I get you to look over here?” 

Ann, transfixed by the news report detailing Akira’s arrest by the police, jumped.   
“Oh! I’m sorry.”  
The photographer (Ann had completely blanked on his name, since he was new) noticed that she had been watching the news report, and walked over.  
“Hm, so he got caught. That group sure was something.”    
“Y-Yeah.”  
The man continued to talk, but Ann was only dimly paying attention, staring numbly at the giant screen on the building across the street. She felt as if she was balanced on the edge of a great abyss, something she hadn’t felt since back in April, when Shiho-

Ann shook her head to clear out those dark thoughts. She had helped to put a stop to all that, and Shiho was well on the way to a full recovery. Everything would turn out fine, just like last time. The plan would work, just like always. It had to. It  _ had _ to. 

\---

 

Ryuji stared at the pair of shoes on display in the storefront, while listening to the television settled on a counter in the store talk about how his best friend in the world had been betrayed and captured by the effin’ cops. Ryuji looked at the price tag for the shoes wistfully. Maybe once all this was over he'd see if he could scrounge up enough money…

“Hm? Well, I’ll be!”  
Ryuji grunted in surprise as Mrs. Aoyama came out of the store to greet him.  
“Goodness, look at you now! It’s been a while, Ryuji!”   
“Huh? Uh, yeah.”

“You stopped visiting so abruptly, everyone was worried about you!” 

_Well, getting your knee busted by a psychopath pervert kinda tends to make you withdrawn,_ Ryuji thought, bitterly, before Mrs. Aoyama continued.  
“It’s your second year, right? Are you still doing track and field? I’d love to see you run again.”  
Ryuji’s bitterness was immediately replaced by a wave of sadness. Of course Mrs. Aoyama wouldn’t have known about what happened. It’s not like he’d bothered to tell anyone why he dropped off the face of the earth. But ever since beating Kamoshida, Ryuji had found it easier and easier to  hang out at the track without a crushing feeling of despair driving him away.   
“Well, I kinda fell out of love with running for a bit, but I think I’d like to get back into it one of these days. Maybe not at a professional level, but, y’know.”  
Mrs. Aoyama smiled at him. 

“Well, Ryuji-kun, you’re a good kid. I’m sure that no matter what you set your heart on, you’ll give it 110%!” 

Ryuji smiled.  _ If only you knew how right you are, Mrs. Aoyama.  _

 

\---

The evening sunlight streaming into this particular painting studio at Kosei Academy was beautiful, but Yusuke was unable to draw any inspiration from it, his nearly blank canvas seeming to loom in front of him like an insurmountable cliff. The only mark he had made on it was a single, solitary bird, which seemed to taunt him. _Look at ME, Yusuke! None of MY friends are in prison, potentially about to be killed by a mass murderer. I’m free as a...well, YOU know._  
Yusuke’s inspiration had been at an all time low ever since Akira had been captured last night. He knew that it was all part of the plan to force Akechi to reveal his true colors and to trick the conspirators into thinking the Phantom Thieves had been neutralized, but he was still consumed by worry, a worry only exacerbated by the trio of first years behind him watching the newscast about his friend’s arrest on one of their phones and talking to themselves. As Mr. Uemura walked by, the first years scattered off, knowing that he took a dim view of cell phone use in his studio. He looked at Yusuke’s canvas.  
“You seem stumped for once. Not feeling it today?”  
Yusuke looked at him, ashamed. “Oh, um...yes.”  
Perhaps Mr. Uemura noticed his chagrin, for he immediately smiled and reassured Yusuke.

“Oh, I’m not chiding you. Just do as normal, at your own pace. With your skills, there’s no need to worry about your future.” He walked off, presumably to scold those first years, who were studiously trying to avoid making eye contact with him.  
Yusuke turned back to his canvas.  
“Normal...right…”

How he wished that were possible.

 

\---

 

Futaba watched a bird fly off into the sunset, only half listening to the newscaster wonder how a high school student could have accumulated such a wide web of contacts as the Phantom Thieves had, before turning her attention back to her computer screen. The various windows on display would have been nearly impossible to parse for a mind of a lower level than hers. 

Fortunately, Futaba was a genius, not to toot her own horn. Well, maybe to toot it a little.  _ Toot toooot! _

She stared as the messages in her chatroom flew by, mainly exclamations of astonishment that the elusive Phantom Thieves had finally been brought to justice. Part of her had been consumed with worry ever since last night, but she quickly shunted that subroutine to the background. If she was correct, and she nearly always was, the plan would kick into high gear any moment now. She stared at the screen intently, the glow of the monitor reflected from her glasses.

 

\---

 

“You never turned it in? That’s quite the surprise! I thought I’d lost it this whole time!”  
Mr. Ishigawa laughed, and Makoto hung her head. “I’m sorry.”  
“Well, your grades are excellent, AND you’re student council president! I’m sure you’ll be admitted anywhere you apply. That one Phantom Thief should have followed your example.”  
Immediately, Makoto’s contrition at having neglected to submit her request for a letter of recommendation evaporated, replaced by a simmering contempt. 

_ If he’d followed MY example, he would have turned the other way when he saw that woman being assaulted back in his hometown, just like I looked the other way when I saw how Kamoshida was treating his students, just like you and the rest of the administration here did. It’s only thanks to Akira that I learned how to stand up for myself, and for others, you miserable-  _

Mr. Ishigawa began to thumb through a file folder.  
“You hear? It seems he was caught. Some high schooler. I wonder why he turned to a life of crime?”  
Makoto stared out the window, primarily because if she kept looking at Mr. Ishigawa’s face she wasn’t certain what would happen.  
_Because of people like you._

\---

The traffic was at a standstill, which made the already uncomfortable car ride nearly unbearable. Haru fidgeted with her sweater, keenly and horribly aware every time Sugimura’s gaze lingered on her. The in-limo television was tuned to the newscast, and the presenters were discussing Akira’s prior conviction, as if they had any right to it. As if they knew the first thing about him. 

“I believe your father can rest in peace now. That Phantom Thief could never have changed anything.” Haru looked downwards, Sugimura’s words prodding at the still fresh wound of her grief. Sugimura continued, ignorant, as always, of anyone’s discomfort besides his own.  
“Only a handful of people are qualified to alter the world.”  
He looked at Haru.  
“So, you’ve been coming home late. That’s what I’ve heard.”  
He leaned over and toyed with Haru’s hair, causing her to gasp in revulsion. “I make a good playmate, you know.”  
Haru, desperate for this ride to be over, focused on the news once more. 

 

\---

“We have breaking news. The young man being held in custody has committed suicide. The police have confirmed his death; other details have not been released. To repeat: the suspect has committed suicide while in custody. This station will continue to report any further updates as they arrive.”

\---

Haru slapped Sugimura’s hand away and stared at the screen in shock. Surely the plan would work. Surely he couldn’t really be-no, she couldn’t permit that thought to form.   
Sugimura scoffed.  
“Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.”  
Immediately, Haru’s fear and concern for Akira took a backseat to a deep, freezing rage. She turned, very slowly, towards Sugimura.  
“What was that, Sugimura-san?”  
If Sugimura had ever paid attention to her beyond as a sex object, he may well have noticed the bright, flashing warning sign that was her expression. As it was, he soldiered onward.  
“Well, simply put, the world is better off without certain people. Criminal trash being one such example. Say,” he said, leering, as the frozen lake of Haru’s fury began to crack. “Why don’t we adjourn to a more...private location to conclude this meeting?”   
_Ah, by ‘meeting’ you mean you crawling back like a worm to beg for my favor and my company’s wealth, Sugimura? What I wouldn’t give to have your Shadow at my mercy…_

“It just so happens I know of a few private hotels with _very_ discreet staff. We could-”  
It was the first time Haru Okumura had ever slapped anyone outside of the Metaverse. 

\---

Ann stared at the screen, certain that at any moment the ground beneath her would crumble away and she would fall into darkness. This was the moment of truth. Either they had just pulled off the single most incredible act of misdirection in the history of human civilization, or all was lost and they would be dead before the year was out. 

Futaba’s fingers flew in a frenzy over the keyboard, launching dozens of subroutines and contingencies. 

Also, in the event that the plan had failed ( _ highly unlikely _ ) and Akira was genuinely dead ( _ game over _ ) she had a suite of programs all ready to go just in case the worst happened. If her br-( _ Brother? Since when, Futaba? Let’s not sequence break. _ )-if Akira went down, then the rest of them went down, and if that happened, Futaba would make damn sure the country that nearly destroyed them all would go down too. 

The Big One in 1929 would look like a hiccup compared to what Futaba could do. But that program was strictly a worse case scenario. Futaba eyed the flash drive containing the programs where it lay on her desk.  _ Hopefully I’ll never use you, buuut… _

\---

The folders Makoto had gone to the faculty lounge to obtain in the first place had scattered across the floor where she had dropped them. She slumped against the wall, hand pressed to her mouth, tears burning down her cheeks.   
“No, it can’t be.”

In that moment, all thoughts of the plan had vanished, all thoughts of the other Phantom Thieves, everything but the horrible possibility that the boy Makoto Nijima had fallen in love with was dead at the hands of the same murderer who had destroyed so many other lives.   
_Please. Please no. Please be okay please don’t be dead please oh god please._

Makoto was dimly aware of gathering the file folders off of the floor and staggering back to the student council room. She managed to shut the door behind her before her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor. Belatedly, her brain recalled that this was part of the plan, and that Akira could very well be alive, and she clung to this thought like a drowning man would cling to a piece of driftwood. If he was alive, everything would work out.

_ And if he’s dead, I will stare into Goro Akechi’s eyes as I slowly choke the life out of his miserable body. _

 

\---

The hustle and bustle of the train station, normally a fascinating diversion for Yusuke, was instead completely ignored as he stared at the breaking news alert on his phone.  
“My word,” he muttered, the formality of which Futaba would no doubt mock him for had she been here. 

_ I suppose now we simply wait and see. _

\---

Ryuji stared at the tv, scarcely believing his eyes.  
“You’re shittin’ me.”

Then, he grinned,.a wave of raw confidence he hadn’t felt in weeks roaring to the surface.  
_We got ‘em._

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again! Not sure what inspired this one, but inspired I was! I look forward to writing more, and I hope you look forward to reading more!


End file.
